Not Alone
by Emmmie
Summary: He'd kept it secret for years, but one mistake will cause Blaine's world to come crashing down around him.
1. Chapter 1

_There was a prologue, but every time I read it I was—meh. I didn't like it. So don't worry if you feel a bit lost at this point, as there will be flashbacks and such later to explain everything. Finally—I still can't figure out whom I want to find out Blaine's secret first. It can really be anyone—Finn, Puck, Quinn, Cedes, Sam… anyone. It just can't be Kurt yet because I have another plan for him finding all this out so leave me who and why and I'll mull it over some more. Onward!_

**CHAPTER ONE**

_Caught_

Most everyone was already buzzed from several beers each. Everyone was, for the most part, in the pool wearing as little as they all could without being naked; everyone was except Blaine. He was wearing a white t-shirt and a pair of khaki shorts. Kurt thought this was odd because on this particularly hot Ohio day he expected his Warbler friend to have wanted nothing more than to shed his blazer for a pair of swim trunks. He expected his friend to be lounging inside the pool of cool water instead of lounging on a plastic lawn chair.

"Aren't you getting in?" Kurt asked with his hands precariously placed on his hips. Blaine smiled softly and shook his head from side to side; his hair wasn't gelled so his dark, but still short curls swayed with the slight movement. "But it's _hot_ out here. You should be half naked in the cold water."

"You just want to see him half naked," Puck laughed from behind Kurt. Uncharacteristically, Kurt shoved Puck's shoulder and the taller boy fell backwards into the pool.

Blaine laughed, "Really, Kurt, it's okay. I'd rather just lay here and soak in the sun."

"Fine," Kurt huffed, but smiled at his friend good-naturedly. "Good luck with your farmer's tan."

Blaine watched the rest of New Directions. He loved Dalton and the Warblers, but as he watched New Directions interact with each other he realized what a family they really were. No matter what they did to each other they knew they always had each other's backs.

"Come on, Blaine," Finn leaned against the wall of the pool, resting his arms along the concrete edge. "You can't sit out all day."

"Yeah, dude, we will get you in here eventually," Puck quickly forgot his words as a wave of water splashed him in the face. Once he wiped the water away from his eyes he turned to see Quinn giggling from the other side of the pool as she quickly made her getaway. Finn went to pull Rachel into the deep end and Blaine at the side of the pool was quickly forgotten.

Artie rolled to a stop at the side of his chair and asked him for a hand in grabbing some extra drinks for the cooler. When the two had returned he noticed Finn and Puck standing by the cooler, suspiciously huddled together and whispering. Blaine dropped the cans of beer off into the cooler and slowly made his way back to his chair. Two pairs of hands grabbed him by both arms before he made it, and it took a few seconds for him to realize that Finn and Puck were dragging him towards the pool.

"Guys. Guys, seriously, stop. Don't do thi—" Puck and Finn stopped at the edge of the pool and Blaine, for a single moment, thought they had reconsidered at the sound of his terrified voice. But instead he found himself sputtering a mouthful of water everywhere only seconds later. He didn't look angry, Kurt noticed, but he looked terrified. The white t-shirt clung to his chest as he pulled himself from the pool.

Finn saw how angry Kurt looked at he and Puck and immediately offered his dry shirt to the shorter boy, "Shit, dude, here. Here. Go change into this."

Blaine mumbled a quick thank you. Several pairs of eyes were on him as he retreated into the house, but two pairs of eyes watched him closely.

"I should probably check on him," Kurt started to walk towards the house, but a voice called out from behind him.

"No, let me."

* * *

><p>Blaine stepped into the bathroom. Despite being soaked to the bone he wasn't angry; he was, however, in pain. He stripped his wet t-shirt off, threw it on the bathroom floor, and turned to the side inspecting the bruises on his upper torso in the mirror. He hissed sharply as he ran a hand over his ribs.<p>

"Oh my god."

Blaine turned towards the voice and winced in pain, but his eyes were wide from shock.


	2. Chapter 2

_A big thank you to those who reviewed/favorited/alerted the story; it really means a lot to me. In case I didn't say earlier, this is set sometime between Season 2 and 3, but Klaine are not Klaine just yet. Otherwise it wouldn't work._

_I was pretty inspired last night to write so I wrote this chapter with the name left blank. It seemed to work because around the end I started writing the person's name instead of "BLANK" so I guess my mind was made up for me. I hope this is longer :) Chapter 3 is also written, but I haven't had a chance to re-read and edit so that should be up later today or tomorrow._

_Also, you'll learn I'm known for long, drabbly author's notes. Enjoy!_

**Chapter Two**

Blaine quickly retrieved the dry t-shirt Finn had loaned him, and slipped it over his head and down his torso. He could feel his ribs burning as he moved his body, but he had to look like 'presentable Dalton Blaine' before turning towards the voice behind him.

She looked as wide eyed as Blaine had only moments early. Her eyes fluttered from Blaine's torso to his face, "What was that?"

"Oh," Blaine flushed and dipped his hands into his wet khaki's pockets. He could feel the outline of a few pieces of loose change, and his mind wandered to wondering at how they managed to not fall out when he had hit the water. Her voice broke him from his thoughts.

"Blaine."

"S-sorry," Blaine said; while his body looked relaxed Blaine's eyes told another story—terror and panic. He wanted nothing more than to shove past her and go back to Dalton. Dalton was safe; his father couldn't get to him at Dalton. "I should go."

"Are you kidding me?" she grabbed Blaine's arm as he tried to pass her in the doorway, but Blaine flinched and she dropped her hand. "Come on, just—what is going on here?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Blaine insisted.

She sighed, "Being thrown into the pool wouldn't cause those bruises."

"No I just—Warblers practice can be pretty dangerous," Blaine said with a tight laugh. He knew she would never believe the lie, no Glee Club in the country practiced in the summertime, but he had hope that he/she would drop the subject anyways.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Blaine said confidently. "I just swallowed a lot of water in the pool."

"But you—"

"I'm _fine_, Quinn."

She stepped back into the hallway, a look of surprise on her face. She bit her lip for a moment, still blocking the door and Blaine from leaving the bathroom. She sighed, grabbed Blaine's hand, and tugged him into the kitchen. Quinn dug through her purse, the two of them eerily silent. They really hadn't ever had a full conversation until now, and even when they spoke to one another Kurt had always been in the room with them. When she pulled her hands from her purse Blaine saw a piece of white paper and a pen. She wrote letters and numbers in her perfect girly handwriting, and then Quinn turned on her heels and handed him the piece of paper. He took it from her reluctantly.

"This is my address and my phone number," Quinn said. "There's something wrong, Blaine, and if you need to talk or a place to—Well just give me a call."

Blaine furrowed his brow in confusion, "Why?"

Now it was her turn to look confused, "Why what?"

"Why are you doing this?"

"Because Kurt cares about you, and from the little I've learned about you, you seem like a good guy." Blaine was about to say 'thank you' when Quinn turned on her heels once again and joined the party in the back yard. Blaine rushed to his car before anyone noticed that he was absent.

Once he had returned home he shot off a text message to Kurt apologizing to him for bailing and promised to return Finn's shirt.

* * *

><p>"I could care less about some stupid shirt, Kurt," Finn said in the kitchen of the Hummel-Hudson household. He really didn't care about some shirt. He cared about Kurt. As much as he had fought this whole gaining a step father and brother thing Finn had quickly warmed to the idea of someone to watch football with on the weekends and someone who he could protect during school. Everyone thought Finn was a stupid jock, and while he didn't understand a lot of complex things Finn understood the look that had been in Blaine's eyes earlier that afternoon. "Is Blaine okay?"<p>

"He's fine. He says he's not angry about what you and Puck did," Kurt said lowly; it was obvious to Finn that Kurt _was_ angry though.

"I'm really sorry, dude," Finn ran a over the top of his head and sighed. "I was trying to get Blaine to lighten up; I didn't mean to upset him or you."

"I'm not angry, Finn. I'm just worried. Blaine wasn't himself today."

"He did seem a bit off," Finn said. Kurt shot him his _look_ that meant a silent 'shut up.' "Sorry. It's the summer. I don't see what he has to be worried about. Finals are over. Glee is put on hold until the fall. He should be relaxing."

"I _know_, Finn, I know."

"Do you want me to talk to him? Or maybe we can get Burt to talk to him."

Kurt's eyes widened at the second suggestion but he was also displeased with the first, "No! No, I'll talk to him tomorrow."

"Okay. Sure."

Kurt heard the hurt in Finn's voice and called out to him, "Thank you, Finn. I appreciate the concern."

"If you need anything you'll come to me, right?"

Kurt smiled, "Of course."

* * *

><p>It wasn't until days later that Blaine returned Kurt's phone calls. Even through the phone Kurt could tell that Blaine was upset; the two agreed to meet at Lima Bean for coffee.<p>

When Kurt walked through the doors of Lima Bean the scent of coffee hit him in the face. No matter how many times he had stepped through those doors the strong scent shocked him. He placed his order at the counter, the café relatively quiet for a Friday morning, and turned to find Blaine already seated at a table in the corner. He saw that Blaine's gaze was on his hands resting on top of the table; he was tapping his fingers nervously as he waited. He noticed the top of Blaine's coffee was off but the cup and its contents were being ignored.

"Hey," Kurt stopped at Blaine's table and hesitantly sat down across from him. Blaine tried his best to smile at him, but it only came out as a grimace instead. "How are you?" Blaine's eyes dropped back to the table.

"Okay," Blaine replied softly. Kurt had never seen Blaine like this; he looked withdrawn. Then his eyes shot up to look across the table at Kurt, "I don't have Finn's shirt."

Kurt smiled reassuringly, "I don't think he really cares about that as much as you do. He was worried you were angry with him and Puck."

Blaine shook his head animatedly, "No. No, I'm not angry with them. Or you. I'm sorry I just took off the other day. I think I just needed to clear my head."

"Did Quinn help?" Kurt asked curiously.

Blaine looked surprised and confused, "Huh?"

"Well she ran after you to see if you were okay. I would have done it myself, but she was pretty convinced that she should talk to you."

"Oh," Blaine said flatly. "She was fine. Really, Kurt, she's a good friend to you."

Kurt pushed his back into the chair, "Yes, but was she a good friend to you?"

Blaine thought for a moment, back to their first conversation in the doorway of the bathroom and then in the kitchen when she explained why she was trying to help. He nodded absent mindedly, "Yeah. I guess she was trying to be a good friend to me."

Kurt smiled, "Then you have two McKinley friends, Blaine Anderson. Welcome to the family."

Blaine genuinely laughed for the first time in days, "Oh god, that sounds like I've joined some kind of cult."

* * *

><p>Blaine lounged on his bed, his ribs still sore. He had had a good day with Kurt even though the nagging pain was in the back of his mind as the two strolled around the mall just window shopping. Blaine dug through his jean pocket and pulled the piece of paper with Quinn's phone number scrawled across the top. He carefully typed the number into his phone along with her name and address and pressed 'save'. Then, without even thinking about the potential consequences, Blaine typed a short text message and pressed send.<p>

* * *

><p>Miles away Quinn's phone buzzed against the wooden desk it rested on. The female in question frowned in confusion; she didn't recognize the number, but flipped her phone open and read the message anyway.<p>

_**I'm sorry I was such a jerk the other day. – Blaine**_

Quinn smiled down at the message and pressed 'reply'.

_**It's okay. We all have our moments. Offer still stands :) ~Q  
><strong>_


	3. Chapter 3

_**Putting this in bold letters because this chapter is particularly VIOLENT and kind of graphic. But this explains and moves the storyline so I can't really keep it out. I'm so sorry if this makes you uncomfortable or upset. And thank you all to the interest; the faves/adds are absolutely insane :)**_

**Chapter Three**

"You're a rotten, disgusting waste of time and space," the voice hissed into his ear. Blaine's head pounded, and he pressed his face further into his pillow. The comforter was yanked from atop his body, and Blaine was pulled off the bed by two strong hands. "Don't think that I don't know where you've been you little faggot."

Blaine gasped as the pain from his ribs spread through his entire body. Rough movements were not welcome, but Mr. Anderson was practically dragging him down the hallway anyway. Even through the pain Blaine could smell the odor of bacon floating through the house; it meant that his mother was in the kitchen. He wanted to call out to her, but even though she loved her son Blaine knew that she wouldn't stand up to her husband. He groaned in pain as Mr. Anderson dropped him to the floor; the tiling below his knees and hands felt cool to the touch and it didn't take him long to realize that he had been dropped on the bathroom floor.

"Get that smell off of you," his father bellowed before slamming the bathroom door shut behind him.

Blaine struggled to his feet, using the sink for a guide, and looked at himself in the mirror. He had dark circles forming under his eyes and they were puffy from the tears he had shed the night before while crying himself to sleep.

_You're not worth it. _

Blaine straightened his spine as the voice in his head spoke. He'd heard it thousands of times before from several different people; it was nothing new, but to hear it from the little, usually encouraging, voice in his head was dumbfounding. Blaine had refused to let outside ideals and thoughts of others to invade his own.

He mumbled a pathetic shut up before stripping his t-shirt and boxers off of his body and stepping into the shower. He had hoped the steamy water would help clear his head and make his muscles more relaxed.

* * *

><p>Kurt pressed the coffee mug to his lips, but didn't take a drink. He lowered the mug to the table, checked his phone, sighed, and repeated his actions. Burt watched from the door.<p>

"Kurt?"

Startled, the younger Hummel jumped in his chair, "Hi dad."

"Everything alright?" Burt asked as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

"Hmm," Kurt replied and took a drink of his own coffee.

"That wasn't a very description reply, kiddo," Burt said with a small laugh. He sat down across from his son at the table; the worry was evident in his eyes as he looked at him.

"I'm sorry, dad, but I'm worried about Blaine."

Burt nodded, but still had no idea what was going on with his son, "Worried about what? Is he in trouble?"

Kurt shook his head, "I don't know. I don't think he's doing anything to get _himself_ into trouble, but I don't know what else could be wrong."

"Have you talked with him?"

Kurt sighed, "He keeps telling me everything is okay."

"And you don't believe him."

"Of course not. He's clearly not fine."

Burt leaned forward to pull his son into a tight but loving hug, "Then you listen and you watch him and when he's ready he will come talk to you."

"When did you get so smart?" Kurt laughed into Burt's chest.

"I have my moments, kiddo."

* * *

><p>Blaine exited the shower, his ribs still sore, but feeling refreshed. He put on clean clothes and headed down the stairs towards the kitchen. He could hear his mother in the kitchen humming to whatever music she had playing on the radio. His father was seated at the table with a coffee mug and a newspaper in hand. He looked up at Blaine's presence and grunted, "Good of you to join us, son."<p>

"Good morning, mom," Blaine leaned forward to kiss her cheek and grab a plate for his breakfast. "Father." He sat as far away as he could from the head of the table before digging into his food. The room was deathly quiet, and after a few minutes Mr. Anderson excused himself from the room to get ready for work. As his father passed, Blaine unconsciously shook in fear, which earned a small smile from the older Anderson.

"Do you have any plans today, sweetheart?" Blaine's mother asked as she refilled Blaine's plate with another serving of eggs. Even though his father had left the room Blaine's appetite had disappeared and once she turned her back to him Blaine pushed his plate away.

"I thought I would go to—"

"Darling," Blaine's father cut him off mid sentence by strutting back into the kitchen. "I'm off to work."

"Have a good day," his mother smiled and Blaine suddenly wondered how she could stand by and watch him act so cruelly to her own son. Mr. Anderson once again passed Blaine on his way out of the kitchen; this time he stopped behind his son and grasped Blaine's shoulders, squeezed them tightly, and then he said into his son's ear very quietly so only the two of them could hear, "If I catch you with that little fag you will regret being born."

Blaine blinked rapidly; his mind could only focus on the pain in his shoulders and when Mr. Anderson released his grip Blaine sighed in relief.

"Have a good day, son."

* * *

><p>The day passed quickly; Blaine found himself lazily watching cartoons from the couch in the basement. He had bought a bag of chips and a bottle of soda after his walk through the park. He was so caught up in texting Kurt and watching the TV show that he hadn't even heard his father come home.<p>

"Of course you're sitting on your fat ass watching TV. Did you not do one productive thing today?" Blaine tensed at his father's voice. He descended the rest of the stairs and plucked the bag of chips and cell phone from Blaine's lap. "Kurt is the little fag, isn't he?"

"Dad—"

Mr. Anderson threw the bag of chips at Blaine, missing by more than a few feet, but Blaine realized that hitting Blaine with a bag of chips hadn't been his father's goal in the first place. Blaine jumped from the couch, terrified, as he tried to maneuver in the opposite direction as his father.

"Get your ass over here right now, Blaine," Mr. Anderson growled, his voice dipping into a dangerous octave that Blaine knew meant he was in serious trouble. He cowered in the middle of the living room; the only thing separating his father's fists from his body was the large L shaped couch. "_Now_."

"Please, dad, I'm sorry, I just—" Blaine was shaking in fear, his head hung low resting his chin against his chest.

"_Now_!" Blaine rounded the side of the couch and stood in front of his father. "Do you think I'm stupid? Did you not think I wouldn't know you were still carrying on with your disgusting disease behind my back?" He grabbed Blaine by his upper arms and shook him violently. "Do I have to beat it out of you? Are you that sick and stupid?"

"N-no. I'm n-not sick," Blaine blinked back the tears that were forming in his eyes. His father hated weakness, and the last thing Blaine wanted to do was show him that he was weak.

Mr. Anderson raised his hand into the air momentarily before his fist collided with Blaine's face, splitting the younger's lip, and then he let Blaine drop to the floor. He kicked Blaine's torso once. Twice. And then one final time before leaning over and hissing into Blaine's ear as the younger boy groaned in pain, "You _disgust_ me."

Blaine heard his father's footsteps going up the stairs. He lifted himself from the floor to the couch and curled into a ball, despite the pain, and sobbed into one of his mother's decorative pillows. His phone buzzed beside him, most likely Kurt wondering why the conversation had died, but he ignored it. A few hours passed and when no one came to check on him Blaine had decided that his parents must have left him alone for dinner. He flipped through his contacts, past his Dalton friends, past Kurt, past Finn and the other members of New Directions he had gotten numbers from during his budding friendship with Kurt.

He stopped on one particular name.

* * *

><p>Quinn's mother had long since gone to meet with friends for dinner and a movie, and while she loved her mother even more since she had left her father, Quinn enjoyed the time to herself. A pair of headlights flashed against her bedroom wall as a car pulled into her driveway. She couldn't make out the car, but recognized that it wasn't Puck's truck or Finn's car. Quinn looked through the small window next to their front door for any sign of an intruder, and instead found a figure on her front porch right as it began to sink to the ground. Quinn pulled open the door, and dropped to her knees next to Blaine. His lip was bloody and the front of his Dalton t-shirt was spattered in blood; his hands were stained with a sickening color of red.<p>

"Oh my god." Her heart sunk, but she had to keep him awake long enough to get him to her couch. "Come on, Blaine. You have to help me a little bit, I can't get you inside by myself."

Ten minutes later Quinn had dropped Blaine onto the couch as gently as she could, had gotten a wet wash cloth, and dabbed at the blood on his lip. His cough sounded like Puck's truck during the winter while he was starting its engine, and Blaine would have to spit a small amount of blood into the rag that Quinn had provided him. She knew she was in over her head even though she was grateful that he had trusted her enough to come there, but she couldn't do this alone and there was no way she would be able to get him to the hospital on her own.

She retrieved her cell phone from her room quickly, nervous to be away from Blaine for even that long. He looked paler than he did when she first found him, which only made Quinn more determined as she scrolled through her contacts, landing on a specific number.

"Hello?" Quinn suddenly lost her cool and her voice, her hands shaking. What if Blaine hated her for this? The voice called out again, concerned laced in every syllable. "Hello? Quinn?"

"Hi," Quinn said softly into the phone. "I need your help."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Quinn paced the length of the waiting room. A figure in the doorway startled her and she stopped in her tracks. "Is he okay? What happened?"

"They're going to keep him overnight for observation," he said and guided Quinn to a chair. "Do you know what happened?"

Quinn sighed, "I think someone beat him up, but not sure who. How much damage was there?"

"A few broken ribs, his wrist is fractured, and he has a mild concussion," he replied sadly. "Have you called Kurt?"

"I want to see Blaine before I talk to anyone else. He might not even want anyone else to know about this," Quinn said. "Which might be hard if they have to call the police and report this."

"He's underage, Quinn, so yes, they do have to call in the police, but whether or not Blaine cooperates is the important thing. Maybe you can get him to talk about what happened."

Quinn nodded and stood from the chair, "Can I see him now?"

He nodded, "Sure. Room 145."

Quinn's legs moved faster than she realized, but once she reached the door the blonde turned on her heels and ran back to hug him, "Thank you, Mr. Schuester. I didn't know who else to call."

* * *

><p>"You scared the crap out of me," Quinn said angrily from the doorway. "I'm grateful you came to me, but jesus Blaine, I thought you were going to die on my porch."<p>

"Hey," Blaine smiled up at her when his eyes finally fluttered open. "Where—"

"You're in the hospital."

Blaine's eyes shot wide open and he tried to push himself out of bed, but the pain took over and he collapsed back down onto the mattress.

"You have a slight concussion, a few broken ribs, and a fractured wrist. You need to relax. Do you want me to call anyone?" Quinn asked. "I can call your parents; they're probably worried sick."

At the mention of his parents Blaine quickly shook his head, pain be damned, eyes wide with fear, "No. No I'm fine."

"What about Kurt?"

Blaine sighed, "Can we just—not tell anyone? I already feel weird having two people I barely know see me like this."

"What? Like a mess? We all have our off days, Blaine. And I know you; Kurt talks about you more than he talks about Ralph Lauren and Valentino now."

Blaine laughed, "Really? Because that's kind of what the Warblers have said."

Quinn's smile disappeared as she remembered Schuester's words, "Blaine, Mr. Schue says the police are going to want to interview you."

"No," Blaine said quickly. "Absolutely not. No way, Quinn, I can't."

"Not tonight then, at least," Quinn nodded but yawned. "You should rest anyways."

"It's late isn't it?" Blaine frowned. "You should go home and get some sleep too, Quinn."

The blonde smiled, lowered herself into the plush chair next to Blaine's bed, and grabbed his good hand; "If you won't let me call Kurt then someone has to stay and make sure your concussed brain doesn't fall into a coma. Kurt would never forgive me. You just sleep; I'm not going anywhere."

* * *

><p>Blaine thrashed back and forth; he was moaning and choking back sobs when Quinn finally rubbed the sleep from her eyes. She watched Blaine whimper once more before rushing to his side and shaking his shoulder.<p>

"Blaine, you're sleeping. _Blaine_."

"No. No, please, no. I'm sorry. Please don't, _please_," he sobbed into the air and Quinn's heart broke into a million tiny pieces. She climbed into the bed next to Blaine and pulled him into her arms. He struggled against her for a moment before calming. His breathing slowed telling her that he had fallen back asleep.

* * *

><p>Blaine awoke to a pair of small, female arms wrapped around him. He felt sore, but oddly safe. He turned his head to see Quinn laying next to him, and he smiled. He pushed back her bangs, which caused her eyes to pop open, but she smiled back at him, "Hi."<p>

"Hi," Quinn unwrapped her arms from Blaine's body, and heaved a sigh into the quiet room. "How are you feeling?"

"My ribs hurt, but my wrist feels better," Blaine cocked his head at Quinn. "Why were we sleeping together?"

"You don't remember? You had a nightmare and you finally calmed down when I came up here and just held you."

Blaine blushed, "Oh. Well thanks."

A knock on the door startled to two and Quinn quickly hopped off Blaine's bed to sit in the chair beside him. Mr. Schuester and two detectives entered the room. Quinn could _see_ Blaine tense up at the sight of the detective, but he also had begun to squeeze her hand.

"Hi Blaine, this is Detective Smith and Detective Ryan."

"We just want to ask you a couple of questions," the detective (Smith) asked him, but Blaine couldn't meet his eyes. Quinn gave his hand a reassuring squeeze and he looked up at her with tear filled eyes. They may had seen sadness and tears, but Quinn saw something bigger deep inside those hazel eyes.

She saw fear.

* * *

><p>The detectives left after only a few minutes; Blaine had told them he didn't remember the event, that everything from leaving Dalton to arriving at Quinn's was a large blur. While Mr. Schuester ushered the detectives out the door and took their cards Quinn stared at Blaine.<p>

"Why didn't you tell them?"

"Tell them what?" Blaine huffed. "I don't remember."

"That's crap and you know it, Blaine! I'm not Finn. I'm not stupid or clueless. When I mentioned your parents you practically had a heart attack."

Blaine shifted uncomfortably on the hospital bed, "I—"

"D—Did your father do this?" Quinn watched Blaine's eyes drop to his hands, and she reached forward to grab them. "Blaine?"

"I—I can't, Quinn, I _can't,"_ Blaine choked back a sob; Quinn moved to sit next to him on the bed and pulled the boy into her arms. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

* * *

><p>For the second time that day Quinn scrolled through the contacts on her cell phone. She pressed the phone to her ear and waited for the other person to pick up. His voice was muffled, and Quinn remembered that it was still early in the morning.<p>

"Mmmrph," he grumbled. "Quinn?"

"I'm in over my head and I don't know what to do."

He say up quickly as he woke up fast at the grave tone in her voice, "What happened? Where are you?"

"I'm at the hospital. I need you, Puck."

* * *

><p><strong>I know we don't know much about Blaine, but I kind of hope season 3 will change that. I want them to give DC a really good, angst filled storyline, and I dunno… I kind of think him and Quinn are similar in a lot of ways. So I guess that's why I chose her. <strong>


	5. Chapter 5

_There's a few pictures floating around tumblr with Dianna and Darren and I wasn't going to update until tomorrow after all, but after I saw the pictures I got inspired. So thank joesus for whoever uploaded those. Also, the Detective Ryan/Castle reference. I love you. Like seriously. Oh, and New York? I know I loved you before, but I love you more now. So. Much. More. I know it isn't very long, terribly sorry. Flashbacks are in italics.  
><em>

**Chapter Five**

Quinn brushed the soft curls from Blaine's face as she watched him sleep. She had sent Mr. Schuester home, thanking him over and over again for the help, and promised to call him if anything changed or when Blaine was ready to be discharged.

"Hey," Puck said from the door, arms crossed over his chest. "Are you okay?"

Quinn nodded absentmindedly. She pulled the blanket up to Blaine's chin, smoothing the wrinkles of the fabric before she thrust herself into Puck's arms. "I don't know what to do."

"Hey," Puck shushed her, stroking her hair as he comforted her sobs. "It's okay. We'll figure it out, okay? Where's Kurt?"

"He didn't want me to call him," Quinn sighed.

"Q, he's going to be _pissed_," Puck groaned. "You should have called him whether he wanted you to or not. What happened?" He looked over Quinn's shoulder; Blaine was still sound asleep, but he could see the cuts and bruises.

"He wouldn't say it, but I think his dad was the one who beat him up," Quinn felt Puck stiffen for a moment. "Hey."

"I'm fine."

"You're thinking about Beth," Quinn said softly, guiding him into the hallway. Puck nodded.

"I kept thinking on the way over here—how could anyone ever want to lay a hand on their kid?" Puck sighed and rubbed the top of his head. "You need to call Kurt, Quinn."

"It's not like they're dating, Puck, and I can't ruin the trust he seems to have in me."

"Well you did chase after him," Puck pointed out sternly. "Why _did _you do that?"

"_Please, Quinn," Kurt sighed. _

"_You _like_ him," Quinn smiled and scooted closer. "Well of course you like him, I mean he's _cute_."_

_Kurt laughed, "Could you just talk to Puck and Sam? Blaine doesn't feel like he fits in with you guys, and—"_

"_I'll make you a deal. Take me shopping this weekend with you and Mercedes and I'll work on trying to include Blaine more," Quinn's smile widened when Kurt nodded enthusiastically. "You really should just tell him how you feel, Kurt. I see the way he looks at you."_

"_He just wants to be friends; he doesn't want to ruin our friendship."_

"_Well then you're both insane and stupid."_

"So I figured if someone other than Kurt checked on him maybe Blaine would think that we're trying."

"We already weren't trying?" Puck laughed; Quinn ignored the question.

"He was all bruised up at the pool party," Quinn continued, but Blaine started to toss and turn again before she could continue, mumbling soft no's. She rushed back to his side to calm him; Puck stayed in the doorway looking slightly uncomfortable. "I'm right here."

Puck waited until Blaine quieted down before slipping out the door to call Finn.

* * *

><p>"Where is he?" Kurt tried to pass Puck, but even Finn held him back.<p>

"What happened?" Finn asked as he pulled Kurt back. He cared about Blaine, but he wanted to protect his brother first and foremost.

"Blaine showed up at Quinn's beaten up," Puck explained and watched Kurt's eyes widen.

"Why Quinn?" Kurt shook his head, confused. "They have barely talked to each other."

"Apparently at the party they had a conversation and exchanged numbers; Quinn wanted him to have a nonjudgmental place to go if he needed it. He was pretty torn up that day."

"I want to see him," Kurt demanded. Puck bit his lip. "_What_?"

"He doesn't know I called you. He didn't want anyone to know."

Kurt looked at him in confusion, blinking away the tears, "I just want to see him."

* * *

><p>Quinn stood in front of the Blaine's door, her eyes planted on Puck, "What do you think you're doing?"<p>

"I'm sorry."

"I told you," she turned to Kurt, "No offense, Kurt, I don't think he's trying to hurt you, he's just scared." She turned back to Puck, angrily, "I told you he didn't want anyone to tell Kurt or his parents, and the first thing you do is call Kurt."

"In his defense," Finn shrugged. "He actually called me."

"He's going to be _so_ angry," Quinn sighed. "The doctors told me they have to call his parents because he's a minor and it's the law."

* * *

><p>"You <em>can't<em> make him go back there," Quinn slammed her fist down onto the table; Blaine flinched slightly.

"Until he decides to press charges against his attacker or attackers we can't do much of anything but bring him home when he's ready," Detective Ryan sighed.

"_Blaine_," Quinn turned to him, his eyes were full of tears and fear. "Tell him. Tell him who did this. They can't make you go back to them if you just _tell them_."

"He'll kill me," Blaine whispered; Kurt squeezed his hand reassuringly. Blaine _had_ been momentarily angry, but the detectives had returned before he could really say anything. Detective Ryan told them that the doctors were releasing him in the morning and they would be back to take him home to his parents. Blaine had started shaking but when both Quinn and Kurt grabbed for his hands he calmed down.

"We wont let him hurt you," Finn said from the corner next to Puck, who was nodding in agreement.

"And we would be able to arrest him, and put him in jail," Detective Ryan said.

Blaine shook his head, the tears finally falling, "This is all my fault."

Quinn squeezed his hand gently, "This is _not _your fault. Not in a million years is this your fault."

"Blaine, did you see who your attacker was?" Kurt asked softly.

The darker boy nodded, his eyes falling closed and then he sighed, "Yes."

"Who, baby?" Kurt continued, squeezing his hand reassuringly. Blaine stared at him with a mixture of love and terror.

Blaine began to shake again, but quickly stuttered out, "My father." He pulled his hands away from Kurt and Quinn, wringing them together in his lap. He didn't notice Puck and Finn escorting Detective Ryan out the door, but he felt both sides of his hospital bed dip as Kurt and Quinn crawled next to him.

"You're going to be okay," Quinn whispered, taking back one of his hands and leaning into kiss his cheek. "We're not going to let anything happen to you."


	6. Chapter 6

_**I want to just bring everyone in for a giant group hug. You guys are too amazing. I cannot even—80 alerts and tons of faves and then the reviews. If I could bake you all cookies I would seriously. I may not eat them, but apparently I am the best baker ever. I apologize if Puck comes off a bit OOC… I'm really trying to work on writing him, but I can write angsty, angry, depressive Puck any day; it's the sweet, sensitive Puck that I'm having issues with. **_

_**Also, We All Fall Down should have SOMETHING new tomorrow. It Never Happened and me are having brain-to-computer issues because my brain says, "write this and this and this and AMAZING" and then I write and write and write and DELETE. We'll get there. Promise.**_

**Chapter 6**

Kurt returned to Blaine's hospital room the next morning to find Blaine curled up next to Quinn. Kurt had practically been forced by Blaine to go home and rest. He had to remind himself that while _he_ loved Blaine so far Blaine never showed any signs of reciprocating; with all of the recent events he really didn't want to push Blaine into anything too serious anyways. Puck had walked in behind him, four cups of coffee balanced perfectly. Kurt smiled gratefully, taking his cup and then one for Blaine and set both of them on the table.

"Is it weird that I'm jealous?" Kurt said softly and motioned towards the two sleeping on the bed. Puck shrugged. "Like he's gay. Obviously. And Quinn is a girl, but I just feel—"

"Like you want to pull her away from him and be the one he's sleeping next to?" Puck answered smoothly. He was staring at the two of them intently before quickly saying with his patented smirk, "Of course, though, I would much rather lie next to her."

Kurt rolled his eyes and sat down next to Blaine's bed and Puck fell into a chair in the corner of the room; they lapsed into a comfortable silence when Kurt picked up his magazine and Puck started playing a game on his cell phone. Quinn woke first, fifteen minutes after Kurt had arrived, and kissed Blaine's cheek before excusing herself to the bathroom.

"How was it?" Kurt asked and for a moment Quinn looked both disturbed and confused. "Blaine. Last night?"

"Oh!" Quinn laughed. "He had a nightmare, but it went okay. The nurses gave him a sedative after so he might be out for a few more hours. Is that coffee?" She stared at Puck with soft, smiling eyes and reached for the cup. "You are a life saver."

"How are you?" Kurt asked politely, keeping his eyes on Blaine's sleeping form.

"I'm tired, but fine," she sighed. "He's worried about where he's going to go."

"I could probably talk to my da—"

"Actually," Quinn bit her lip. "I asked my mom if he could take our guest bedroom. We have so much room Kurt; you're obviously welcome over any time you want." She grabbed a hold of his hand and squeezed it gently. "He's going to need the both of us."

"Kurt?"

The three turned to find Blaine struggling to keep his eyes open. He was awake, but barely.

"Hey," Kurt soothed, pushing back his matted curly brown hair. "You should sleep."

"I thought he got you," Blaine whimpered and tried to pull Kurt into a hug, but he was too weak. Kurt squeezed his shoulder reassuringly.

"I'm right here. Just sleep okay? We'll be here when you wake up."

Blaine drifted back to sleep and Quinn sighed. Kurt, still holding onto her, squeezed her hand this time, "Why don't you go home and get some sleep? I'm sure he'll be out for a while and he'll understand that you needed a shower and a nap and some food, Quinn."

"Yeah," Puck said with a smile and popped up from his chair. "Why don't I run by Mc Donald's and grab us some food, and then I'll take you home so you can get some rest?"

Quinn, too tired to really argue any longer, nodded her head in agreement. She leaned down to kiss Blaine's forehead and then pulled Kurt into a long, tight hug. Puck followed her out the door, and Kurt laughed, "_Just_ rest, Puck."

* * *

><p>Blaine wasn't sure what time it was when he finally opened his eyes, but he was mostly unsure of a lot of things.<p>

Where was he?

Where was his _dad_?

What day was it?

"Hey," Kurt looked up from his magazine at the sheets rustling and smiled at him.

"_Oh_," Blaine sighed, realizing that it was Kurt; both he and Kurt were safe, and his father _wasn't_ there. "Hey."

Kurt chuckled, "Hey to you too. How are you feeling?"

"M'kay," Blaine nodded, slipping into Warbler Blaine, but Kurt shook his head fast.

"No, you're not. So stop lying."

Blaine sighed again, "I'm in a little bit of pain, but I'm _fine_, Kurt." He forced out a painful smile. "I'm glad you're here. Where's Quinn?"

"She went home to get some rest. I sent Puck with her to make sure she got there okay," Kurt scooted his chair closer to the side of Blaine's bed and sighed. "Though I'm not entirely sure how _that_ will work."

Blaine laughed, a real, genuine laugh, "Oh god. You do realize how much they love each other right? It's absolutely ridiculous that they never were together longer."

"Well having a baby with your boyfriend's best friend does change a lot," Kurt explained with a grin. He'd told Blaine the stories months ago when he'd been ranting about missing home and all the drama that came with New Directions.

"But she loves him," Blaine insisted. "And you can see that Puck clearly cares about her. Does he have the emotion 'love'? I'm still not quite sure what to make of him."

"He did apparently keep Quinn under control after she and Mr. Schuester brought you in to the emergency room," Blaine hummed to himself. "Nah."

* * *

><p>"You can stay if you want," Quinn said and dropped her purse to the table. "After you eat, you can leave. Or you can stay and take a nap too."<p>

Puck could tell she was nervous. He couldn't tell if it was because she was distracted and was unsure of what to say or if because she was really nervous to be around _him_. _Alone_.

"Do you want me to go?" Puck asked.

"No!" Quinn turned on her heels to face him, eyes widened, and mouth open. "I—I mean, I just don't really feel like being alone. Not now."

"Sure," he shrugged and began unpacking the Mc Donald's bag. The two each stole a glance of each other, as they ate, neither realizing that the other was watching. After the two finished their meal they silently climbed the stairs. Puck began to retreat to the guest bedroom when Quinn's voice stopped him dead in his tracks.

"Could you—maybe—stay with me tonight?" Puck shot her a questioning look and she shook her head softly, her blonde locks sweeping from side to side. "Not like that. Not—I just don't want to be alone right now."

"Yeah," Puck hoped she didn't realize how hitched that had came out as soon as he said it, but Quinn didn't seem to notice as she shakily held out her smaller hand for him to take. He accepted it, gladly, and let her lead him towards her bedroom. She curled against his chest, and he rubbed her back as she sobbed. For Kurt. For Blaine. For all the pain everyone had ever made them go through. "It's okay. It's going to be okay."


End file.
